Kiss and Make Up
by V. Perpetua
Summary: Because it's the perfect solution to the love triangle... Set a few months after the season 3 finale. Nathan and Duke have an epic fight, and wind up somewhere unexpected. Rated M for language & sexuality. Slash


_Stupid. Why the hell did he always want what he couldn't have? What was his problem? At least he had gotten used to it, never getting what he wanted, learning to rely only on himself. It wasn't that he'd lived some tragic, deprived life; it was just that the things that mattered to him were never what he got:_

_He had been a popular kid—the guy everyone in school wanted to be: different, aloof, unable to be pigeon-holed in a category like "jock" or "nerd." Everyone wanted to know him, except the one kid he wanted to be friends with, the only one he wished he could be like. Nathan. _

_It was almost funny. His teachers liked to adopt him, the sweet-tongued, scruffy Crocker boy who never had lunch money or a winter coat. But his own father would hardly acknowledge he existed, unless it was to direct his drunken anger at him. _

_It was like a disease, this desire for only the impossible. He should have learned his lesson long ago. It was something about this town-this fucking town. He loved it and hated it. It drew him in; it cast him out. Maybe it wasn't Haven so much as the memories it held. He could never escape them. That, and Nathan, always defiantly in his face, demanding that he do better, be better. Nathan, always so loathe to trust anyone, always viciously independent, but so secretly vulnerable. He'd have shot Duke on sight if he knew he could see so well through the walls Nathan put up with harsh words and bravado. Nathan. Perhaps the biggest thing Duke wanted and couldn't have. Every time he tried to get close, Nathan ended up hating him more. They ended up hating each other. Loving and hating, around it went. _

_Maybe running away had been the right decision. Maybe he should never have come back, fooling himself that he could face his demons. And now here he was again. Wanting what he couldn't have. She was the only person who ever believed in him, it seemed. The only person who saw straight through his charm and affected disinterest, his flippancy, his whole act, like it wasn't even there. He wished Nathan could see past his surface like that. But he couldn't—or, more likely, he simply wouldn't. She recognized him, and accepted him as he was. How could he not fall in love with that, just a little? But now, just like everyone else he had loved, she was gone. Everything was gone: Haven, Nathan, the Grey Gull, the sound of the sea lapping the docks, everything. There was nothing but an endless white maze dimly lit with amorphous, artificial light, nothing but silence and echoes._

He awoke in the dim gray light of early morning, condensation soaking through his clothes, the chill air slowly forming ice crystals in the folds of his pants and his long hair. Shivering violently, he staggered to his feet in confusion. Clouds of heavy brine-filled mist blew around him, dark pines flickering in and out of view. Tripping through the weeds and underbrush, Duke dragged himself to the shoreline, finally recognizing where he was. The Island. The Island, with no barn to be seen. Across the water, he could just make out the rooftops of Haven.

Although he knew it was a pointless exercise, he roamed the circumference of the island, searching in vain for a boat he knew would not be there. Somehow, in all the mess that had come with the Hunter he had lost his cell phone. Fuck. He had been pulled out of the smothering jail of hospital-like halls into another cage, trapped on this god-forsaken island. He knew she must be at the bottom of this—somehow she had kicked him out, sent him away. Or maybe it was some other force, whatever or whoever was really in charge of all this. Maybe he'd been stirring the pot a bit too much, maybe he'd been making them nervous. He smiled crookedly at the thought. Aimlessly, he prowled the beach, picking up palm-sized stones and flinging them out into the waves. It was therapeutic, he thought, still shivering with cold. Plus, it kept him warmer.

Evening was setting in when Duke walked into Haven. He had managed to waylay a passing fisherman and get a ride to shore. Warily, he made his way into the little downtown from the docks, taking comfort in the sight of his boat, still familiarly moored where he'd left it. Damn it, why hadn't he asked the fisherman what the date was? He felt so disoriented. Spying his trusty Rover parked up the hill, he nearly jumped for joy. There was no way it wouldn't have been towed, given his relationship with the local parking authorities. He gave the battered old truck an affectionate kiss when he reached it.

"Still in business," he told it jubilantly. "No Rip Van Winkle shit for me!"

Coaxing the vehicle into life, he nearly floored it to the police station, shaking his head at himself as he eagerly ran up the steps two at a time. Yep, he was totally losing all his badass outlaw cred. He scooted past a few officers, swung into the Chief's office, and stopped dead. It was empty. Not only was there no Nathan occupying the chair, but the desk and room were cleared out, all of his personal affects piled in boxes by the door.

"Hey, hey!" He snagged a passing officer by the arm. "Stan, where's the Chief?"

The officer looked at him strangely. "The interim chief hasn't arrived yet..." Stan told him uncertainly.

"Chief Wuornos, Stan. Nathan."

The officer looked at him incredulously.

"Duke, he handed in his resignation a few days ago. You didn't hear?"

"I was out of town for a bit," Duke answered vaguely. "Sorry to bother you, I'll just see myself out." He went to beat a hasty retreat, but not before Stan called after him.

"If you see him, tell him we still need him. Tell him he has to come back."

Throwing a salute of acknowledgement in the officer's direction, Duke hurried out of the precinct. Hopping back in the Rover, he headed grimly to the Wuornos house. What had happened while he was stuck in the Barn? How long had he even been away, and how much shit could hit the fan in a seemingly short time period? Probably a lot.

The house seemed empty when he arrived, but he still jimmied open the door when no one answered his knocks. Who knew if Nathan would want to see him? It struck him how unlived-in the house looked. Upon perusal, he saw that Nathan had left things just as his father had had them, and had moved into the spare bedroom instead of the master suite. There was a molding coffee cup in the sink, however, otherwise he wouldn't have believed anyone was still living there at all. Nathan's truck was nowhere to be seen.

Locking the door behind him as he left, he drove mindlessly to the Grey Gull. It was a comforting entity in his life, and he just needed to see it still standing. It made him somewhat sad when he saw the "Closed until further notice" sign hung in the door, but he took heart when his key clicked definitively in the lock and the door opened to reveal everything just as he'd left it. Patting the doorframe affectionately, he went to the phone behind the bar. It still had a dial tone. First, he was going to call Nathan, then he was going to get all the Grey Gull employees back and get the old girl up and running again. Knowing him, they wouldn't ask too many questions about his abrupt absence. Dialing in Nathan's cell number, he felt a trickle of dread run down his spine when he heard faint but familiar chimes sounding behind him. He soon found Nathan's phone sitting deserted at one end of the bar.

"Nathan?" he called, trying to fight down panic. "Hey, honey, I'm home," he joked, mostly for his own benefit.

Stepping out onto the back deck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Out at the far end, hunched against the railing, was an unmistakable figure. He stepped quietly up behind the other man, not sure if Nathan had heard him.

"You know you're trespassing." He saw Nathan's shoulders jump, his back stiffening. "Also stealing," Duke added, eying the near-empty whiskey bottle in his hand.

Slowly, Nathan turned to him, and he felt a little flutter of panic again in his chest. The (ex?) cop looked like hell. Rough stubble and dark bags beneath his eyes seemed to imply he had taken up permanent residence at the Gull's bar, with just the whiskey for company. Nathan stared at him blankly, unreadable, although that was nothing new.

"Well, you sure took your sweet time, didn't you?" Swaying on his feet, Nathan leveled a piercing glare at him with his blue eyes.

"Hey, I wanted to make the most of my vacation time," Duke said lightly, shrugging.

"Fuck. You. It's been two fucking months." Nathan waved the bottle at him, slurring. "I waited, I hoped, I tried to find out anything more about the Barn that I could." He threw his arms out in a hopeless gesture. "I gave up. I had to accept that I had fucking 27 years to wait."

"From what I'm seeing, you weren't doing much accepting," Duke noted, attempting to pull the whiskey bottle from Nathan's hands.

Nathan jerked away, taking a healthy swig. "If you can't accept, I figure, forget," he rasped. "What's it matter to you?"

Duke took a step back, frowning at the venom in his voice.

"Nathan..."

"I don't want to hear it! How long have you been out anyways? Why did you even bother coming back? I can see Audrey's not with you."

Stung, Duke clenched and unclenched his fists.

"I got out of that godforsaken place this morning, you ass," he shot back. "I went looking for you."

Nathan snorted and turned his back.

"I don't know what the hell you want! I got stuck in that fucking barn, and then it kicked me out. I had no idea what day it was, or, hell, what year!" Duke was shouting now. "I get back here, and you're throwing a fucking temper tantrum! No 'Hey, Duke, nice to see you,' or 'Hey, good to see you're not dead.' No, you're just an ass!"

"I am?" Nathan spun around, lips curling in anger. "What about you? You're just doing what you do best: watching out for no one but yourself. You got out of that place, but you didn't bring her with you. You left her behind!"

Snarling, Duke grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him against the building. "You son of a bitch, I am so tired of your stupid shit! If you think I would have just left..."

Duke paused, trying get control of himself. He forced himself to let go of Nathan's shirt and step back. Nathan was staring at him darkly from under heavy-lidded eyes. Fuck. He knew that look, and rolled to the side just as Nathan threw the punch. Nathan's momentum carried him into the railing, helped by a shove from Duke.

"You know what? I might not have my particular 'trouble' anymore, but neither do you." Duke's swing caught Nathan squarely on the jaw, knocking him to the floor. For a moment, he stared at Duke in shock, touching a hand to his face where a red welt was already blooming. "You have no idea how good that felt," Duke told him, laughing grimly. "You know what's funny, Nathan?" He waited for the other man's eyes to meet his. "That after everything we've been through, you're the one who's so good at thinking only of yourself. I mean, seriously, you resigned? And your solution to everything is to go drown yourself in whiskey?"

Anything more Duke was going to say was cut off as Nathan launched himself at him, taking him down at the knees. They fell hard onto the wooden floorboards, Nathan pulling himself up to straddle Duke, throwing punches wildly.

"You don't know anything!" he shouted, his fist connecting solidly with Duke's face.

Growling, Duke grabbed him by the throat and wrestled him to the ground, splinters digging into their skin from the rough, weathered decking.

"You have serious trust issues!" Duke spat, slamming Nathan's head against the floor. "I'm not your fucking enemy!"

"Really? 'Cause it's kinda hard to tell!" Nathan kicked out, catching Duke right in the ribs. "Last time I saw you, you were pointing a gun at me. Why didn't you let me stop her?"

"Last time you saw me, I saved your life," Duke panted, tackling the other man as he tried to get up.

Winded, Nathan scrabbled for the whiskey bottle and smashed it into Duke's head. "Fuck you! How are you even here? How the hell are you here?" he shouted, dragging himself unsteadily to his feet.

Grimly, Duke wiped blood off of his face. "I don't know. Nathan, I don't know. I'm having a hard time remembering."

"No," Nathan shook his head incredulously. "No. Not good enough."

"Not good enough? I'm lucky it didn't fry my brain completely! Be glad I still know my own fucking name!" Duke cursed. "I'm sorry I couldn't fix all your problems for you," he spat. "I'm sorry you're such a fucked up mess. But you know what? Saving you all the time is not my job!"

Nathan let out a bellow of rage and flung Duke against the wall. Lashing out, Duke caught him squarely in the mouth, noting with satisfaction Nathan's wince of pain as blood ran down his chin from a badly split lip.

"You could always dish it out, couldn't you?" he mocked. "Not so good at taking it when we're on the same level, are you?"

In answer, Nathan grabbed him in a headlock and spun him around, sending him straight through the glass french doors. Staggering wildly in an attempt to avoid falling onto the broken window glass, Duke plowed into a table stacked with chairs. With a clatter of splintering wood, he tumbled over it and crawled away, trying to get his bearings. A gash was torn through his shirt and into the flesh of his shoulder, probably from the glass door. Levering himself into a crouch with the edge of a table, he looked up just in time to see Nathan hurl a chair at him.

"Jesus!" Diving under the table, Duke scrambled away, more chairs scattering like bowling pins behind him. "You are so going to pay for damages!" he yelled. Nathan kicked over another table, bloodlust in his eyes. "I will call the damn cops on your ass!" Duke threatened. "You're just a regular guy now, remember?"

"You think I give a damn?" Nathan asked him flatly. Something in his voice made Duke's skin crawl.

"C'mon, Nathan," Duke spread his arms, bargaining now. "What do you want from me? I couldn't fix it, but this isn't over. We are not giving up." Cautiously, he stood and backed slowly towards the bar, palms up, signaling peace.

Nathan looked at him darkly.

"No. You do not get out of this that easily," Nathan jabbed a finger in his direction, catching the back of a chair to balance himself.

Duke reached the bar and lounged against it, quirking a barbed smile.

"You know, I didn't start off seeing the similarity, but you really do take after your father, don't you?" They both knew which father he was referring to.

Nathan's face twisted into a grimace and he shook his head, fairly spitting with rage. "I will kill you," he growled, ripping back his sleeve to brandish his tattooed arm at Duke. "I swear to God I will fucking kill you!" He launched himself at Duke in a fury.

The other man watched him placidly until the last second. Nathan never saw it coming. Gripping the baseball bat that he always kept tucked behind the bar for 'security purposes,' Duke whipped it around, hitting the oncoming Nathan right in the side of the head. He went down fast, his momentum carrying him straight into Duke and knocking them both to the floor. Duke wrestled with Nathan's unconscious weight until he had him in a full nelson, just as Nathan stirred and began to struggle. Disoriented, his head pounding, Nathan flailed his legs and strained his arms, but Duke's grip was solid. Gritting his teeth, Nathan tried to fight through it, but the pressure to his neck kicked in swiftly, tunnel vision rushing in. Duke waited him out until he finally went limp, panting and swearing.

"You son of a bitch!"

"Come on, Nathan. Calm yourself down. I'm not the enemy right now."

The former police chief kicked his legs again halfheartedly.

"Fucking kill you..." he gasped.

Duke pulled his arms a little tighter until he heard Nathan's breath hiss in his throat.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too," he told him, rolling his eyes.

Nathan's ragged breathing gradually slowed, and Duke waited quietly, wondering if the blue-eyed man was gathering his strength for another round or actually calming down. A sudden elbow to the ribs gave him his answer as Nathan twisted around in his loosened grip, freeing one arm. They grappled among the bar stools, Nathan getting a hand around Duke's throat. Coughing and gasping, Duke broke free, trying to lunge behind the bar on his hands and knees. Nathan caught him, both hands around his neck this time, and they slammed to the floor again, glasses shattering around them. There was the metallic click of a gun being cocked, and Nathan stilled suddenly. A bat wasn't the only thing Duke kept behind the bar. Nathan loosened his hands slowly, the cool touch of the revolver against his head.

"Do you really want to kill me?" Duke questioned. Although winded, his hand was steady. Frozen, Nathan stared at him, his hands still held to his throat. With a clattered, Duke tossed the gun away into an unseen corner. "Go on then." He looked the other man dead in the eyes. "Kill me."

The two men hung suspended in silence, unmoving as statues. Neither so much as twitched, their gazes grimly deadlocked. Duke felt as if his every draw of ragged breath was a deafening roar. Glass crunched beneath his shoulders with any imperceptible shift of weight. The arc of Nathan's spine shivered with the strain of complete immobility as he tried to slow the speeding beat of his heart. A bead of sweat fell from his chin, and he felt Duke's skin twitch as it dripped onto his collarbone. He could feel the thumping pulse of blood in the dark-haired man's neck, a steady rhythm against his fingertips. It had been a long time since he had felt someone seem so _alive_. Duke's ribcage rose and fell with labored breaths, his bloodied, sweat-slicked skin hot to the touch.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nathan demanded with confusion.

"What does it look like?" Duke answered evenly, his voice low and hoarse.

"No. Now way." His expression almost desperate, Nathan struck Duke in the face, whipping his head to the side. "Fight me! God damn it, fight!"

He pulled back his fist again, but Duke caught his wrists and pulled him down, toppling him off balance. Falling against Duke's chest, he struggled only halfheartedly as Duke pinned his arms in a bear hug.

"Shhh. Calm down," Duke muttered. "It's ok. I'm not going to fight you."

They lay there in the darkened Gull, sweaty, bleeding, the blows they had exchanged beginning to throb painfully. Despite himself, Nathan felt a few tears of frustration escape to wet the fabric of Duke's shirt. Duke said nothing, the thrum of his heartbeat pounding in Nathan's ear. Duke could feel the rough drags of Nathan's breath flutter against his throat, making a jagged cut along his jaw sting with each huff of air. Rousing himself, Duke struggled up into a sitting position, their limbs tangled together. He still clenched Nathan tightly around the shoulders. Grasping Duke's tattered shirt forcefully in his fists, Nathan pushed him against the wooden beadboard of the bar, his head still pressed into the other man's chest for fear he should see the tears.

"We're going to get through this together," Duke told him, giving him a rough shake. "You hear me? I mean that." He felt Nathan shudder slightly.

"Why the hell are you still here?" Nathan asked. Starting out barely audible, his voice rose. "Why did you even come find me? What's left for you?" He was shouting now, his face a painful mask. "You could have walked away! There's nothing left to do."

"You stupid ass." Duke shook his head at him. "You're an idiot, you know that?" Nathan shoved him harder against the bar, sputtering. Fiercely, Duke grabbed a handful of his dirty blonde hair, yanking his face close. "I'm still here _for you_!" he yelled. "Son of a bitch! I came back for you!" He was seriously loosing it. "Fuck! You don't even get it do you? All I fucking want-"

His tirade was cut off as Nathan suddenly pulled his head forward violently, crushing their lips together. Duke made a startled noise in the back of his throat, his fingers digging into Nathan's shirt front reflexively. Shocked, he struggled for a moment, but Nathan held him still until he gave up in bewilderment. Lacing his hands through Duke's dark hair, he forced his head back savagely, devouring the warmth of his mouth. Duke's nails cut into Nathan's chest enough to draw blood, but he didn't push him away.

"Nathan-" Duke attempted to speak, but was quickly muffled as Nathan slid his tongue into his open mouth. Nathan's left hand was around his throat, pressing into the line of his jaw, but he did not tighten his grip. That damned tattoo was right there, close into his line of sight, but Duke didn't even care. Without thinking, he tilted his head back farther, pushing up against Nathan's lips, kissing him back. He could feel a tremor travel through Nathan's body as he registered Duke's compliance. He bit Nathan's lip just hard enough to make sure he knew the score, and could have sworn he felt the other man smile against his lips, deepening the kiss.

Gradually, Nathan's touch became gentle, his thumb unconsciously tracing the hollows beneath Duke's jaw, fingers tangling in the silkiness of his long hair. They slowly sank to the floor, tugging each other's shirts off in a haze. Lying back on the worn wooden boards, Duke gasped as Nathan kissed and nipped his way down the curve of his neck.

Duke tasted salty and sweet, his skin hot and smooth. Nathan's faculties were overloaded with the sensations. He could feel the steady swell of the other man's pulse beneath his lips, his bare chest slippery with sweat under his fingers. He could feel Duke's ribcage rise and fall heavily, his breath hitching when Nathan ran a hand down his breastbone to his waist, the taut muscles of his stomach twitching. God, Nathan could feel it all- everything. He was intoxicated with it. He wanted more.

Duke's brain seemed to have short-circuited. Everywhere that Nathan touched him seemed like an electrical current was flowing through his skin. For the first time in forever, he knew Nathan could feel him, too. This was so much better than beating the shit out of each other. Hungrily, the full length of their bodies pressed together. Pulling Nathan tighter against him, Duke whined in the back of his throat as Nathan's hands skimmed down his sides to trace the slope of his hipbones. Their lips found each other again, tugging, searching, becoming lost in the feeling of the other.

Duke undulated against Nathan and he drew a ragged gasp, pressing into him in response. Nearly dizzy, he fumbled with Duke's belt, dragging the remainder of his clothing away. Duke blindly tugged at Nathan's jeans until he kicked them off into a corner. Legs tangled together, they fell back onto the floor. Burying his face in Duke's neck, Nathan ground slowly against him, skin sliding against skin. A low moan escaping him, Duke involuntarily widened his legs, letting Nathan settle between them. Nathan stroked a finger along Duke's throat, stunned at the dark-haired man's willing surrender. He kissed him deeply, thrilling at the feeling of Duke's long fingers mapping the planes of his chest.

Duke was fairly certain that he must be dreaming. It just didn't seem possible: the way Nathan's breath came low and unsteady, how their bodies blended together-a perfect fit. He didn't want to wake up, not ever. It felt like they were on fire, melting together, limbs blending, lips white-hot, skin meeting like licking flame.

Panting, Nathan pulled away briefly to twist Duke onto his side. He kissed his way up his spine, starting where the powerful muscles in Duke's back cinched together in a pair of deep dimples and ending at the nape of his neck. He lay over the slopes of Duke's body, skin clinging against skin. Reaching around, Duke pulled his head in, teasing the corner of Nathan's mouth, then sucking at his upper lip, finally exploring carefully with his tongue. When he bit and tugged lightly on his bottom lip, Nathan shuddered, hissing his name.

In retaliation, he let his fingers play across Duke's chest, tweaking and rubbing silken soft skin, chuckling wickedly at Duke's sounds of protest. He ran a hand down his stomach, over his hip, and finally to his inner thigh. Nathan brushed along tender flesh, whisper-light, drawing Duke's leg upward and out. Shivering with adrenaline, Duke defied the sudden fight or flight reflex that kicked in as Nathan pulled his body into such an open, vulnerable position.

"Oh fuck." He bit his lip as Nathan pressed against him, breathing hard. He grabbed Nathan's hand as if to stop him, but didn't. Bending, Nathan kissed his torn, scabbed knuckles, then let his mouth wander to his ribs and up to lap at the shadows around his collarbone. Ceding all thought, Duke pushed back against him, letting his head fall back, overwhelmed by the feeling of their bodies together. Stroking against him, Nathan swallowed a groan, the friction of their skin devastating.

"Nathan-" Duke gasped, struggling to speak.

"Shhh," Nathan hushed him, tucking his face into Duke's hair. "Don't worry. I won't."

With both hands, Duke pulled his head down, capturing Nathan's lips in a burning kiss.

"But I want you to."

Duke blinked blearily, disoriented, morning sunlight filtering through his lashes. Stretching like a cat, he squinted to see. He was in the small basement room of the Gull that he used as an office, sprawled out on the couch. Out the wide windows in front out him, the sea danced against the rocky shore, foamy crests glittering like diamond. He smiled at the comforting sound of its steady roar and the taste of salt in the air.

Recollection slowly returned, and his smile faded. Worriedly, he cast his glance around the room. His heart sank when he saw his clothes were folded neatly on a chair beside him, seemingly the only sign that anyone else had been there. He jumped when someone cleared their throat behind him.

Nathan was lounging against the doorframe, watching him with some amusement, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands.

"You sleep like the dead," he commented, handing Duke one of the cups.

Quickly making room for him on the couch, Duke shot him a nervous grin.

"So… Much of a hangover?" he tried to ask nonchalantly, taking a grateful sip of coffee.

"Not too bad," Nathan replied. "I really don't remember anything that happened last night, though."

Duke choked on his coffee, whipping his head around to stare at him in alarm.

"Nothing?"

Nathan relieved Duke of his mug as he had a coughing fit.

"Well… I remember you calling me a stupid ass," Nathan answered sternly. He poked Duke in the chest for emphasis. "And a bastard. And a fucked up mess. And you threatened to call the cops on me!" He was up close in Duke's face now, but all Duke could do was stare at him in panic. "But I'm pretty sure we made up," Nathan added, his voice low, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

Suddenly, Nathan leaned in and kissed him fiercely. Duke made a muffled noise of shock, which swiftly turned into a groan as he wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders.

"You really are an ass," he said, shaking his head.

Nathan chuckled, brushing Duke's hair away from his face. "And you look like hell," he told him.

Threading his fingers tighter than necessary in Nathan's hair, Duke pulled him in for another kiss. "That's your fault," he retorted, nipping Nathan's bottom lip, then soothing it with his tongue.

Trying to steady his breathing, Nathan finally pulled back. "You'd better hurry up and get your clothes on, of we'll never make it upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

"Since there's no way I'm paying you back for all that whiskey, I made you French toast instead."

Duke tried to seem annoyed at him, but failed. "Not pancakes?" he asked, surprised.

"Nope. Not pancakes."


End file.
